


Silver Lake

by Tangerine



Category: X-Men: The Animated Series
Genre: Camping, Cooking, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-09 02:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15257727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: After rescuing him from the Sentinels, Wolverine takes Gambit on a long-promised camping trip to Canada.





	Silver Lake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosencrantz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosencrantz/gifts).



The X-Men had a bad habit of leaving notes stuck to the fridge, with the hope someone would be hungry or thirsty enough to see it before anything permanent happened. It was an issue Logan had brought up on more than one occasion, only to be ignored or shrugged off, despite all his grumbling. 

At least Gambit had the good sense to date and time his notes, since he was the most likely to disappear for extended periods of time, but he was also, in Logan's experience, the one who least likely needed saving. Gambit had lives to spare, silver-tongued and slippery as an eel, with a healthy sense of self-preservation. So the note, written with flowing letters and dated two days ago, didn't raise any alarm. 

_Gone off to help a friend. ♥ Gambit (6 juin, 13h30)_

Logan looked at it, shrugged, then grabbed himself a beer and a plate of Jean's famous lasagne. 

It wasn't often he had the mansion to himself, but his mission had ended early, and he'd come back to find everyone else gone off to Muir Island. He turned on the TV as he heated the food in the microwave, leaning back against the counter and taking a deep swig of beer. More lousy news – same old shit every day – and of course, there were Sentinels. There were always fucking Sentinels. 

And in the background, barely visible, a pink and black blur, was Gambit, taking a blast to the chest. 

"Fuck," Logan swore as he scribbled his own hasty note, sticking it over the one Gambit had left.

 _Saving Gumbo. - W_

He drained his beer before heading off to save the Cajun. He took the lasagne with him.

~~

By the time he found Gambit, he was in rough shape. As bad as Logan had ever seen him. He hadn't really concerned himself with the who or the why while ripping his way inside, Gambit's scent thick in his nose, but whoever had done this to him, hadn't stopped with the Sentinels and hadn't been kind. Fury rose up in him, the sort of blind rage he'd spent his life fighting, before he swallowed it down. 

Now was not the time to let the animal take over. Gambit needed saving more than he needed revenge.

"Up and at 'em, Cajun," Logan muttered, slicing through the bonds then hoisting Gambit up, sliding under his arm and giving him a chance to get comfortable using his legs again. Logan was tempted to toss him over his shoulder and just make a run for it. "I haven't made many friends busting in here." 

"'Preciate the rescue, mon ami, though might be a little late. Désolé."

"You're gonna be fine, Cajun."

"Don' feel that way," Gambit mumbled, wilting against him, and Logan swept him up into his arms. Gambit peered up at him, face a swollen mess of bruises, eyes barely visible behind puffy eyelids. "Ah, my hero, Wolverine. I see you got my note. Was beginning to wonder if ol' Gambit had been forgotten."

"Quit fishing for compliments," Logan grumbled, looking down as Gambit coughed, a wracking, wet sort of cough that set all of Logan's nerves on edge. Logan didn't have to be a damn doctor to know the Cajun was in a bad way and needed more help than Logan could give him."Just stay with me, Gumbo."

"Not that easy, cher." Gambit looked up at him again as Logan worked his way down the hallway, stepping over the unconscious bodies he'd left in his wake the last time. "Gon' need a better offer."

Logan snorted. Typical Gambit, half dead, still trying to charm his way into things he couldn't easily steal. It used to be easier to resist him. "I'll take you on that damn camping trip you've been after."

"That'd be nice," Gambit murmured, relaxing, and seeing he had finally passed out, Logan shifted him to his shoulder and ran the rest of the way, Gambit's heart beating faintly against against his back. 

~~

Gambit spent ten days in medical, under the watchful eye of Hank, who assured Logan that Gambit would make a full recovery with time. For the most part, Logan stayed out of Hank's fur, leaving the doctor to do his job, but then, early one morning, he finally headed down to check on the patient. 

Gambit grinned when Logan showed up in the doorway. His face was still bruised, but the purple had begun to fade to yellow, at least around the edges, and his red-on-black eyes were clearly visible, skin pinched at the corners. "You here to whisk me away on our honeymoon, cher? Jus' like you promised."

Logan smirked. "You ain't exactly in any shape to travel, Gumbo."

Gambit shrugged lazily, arms crossed over his chest, the neckline of his gown dipping low. "Eh, looks worse than it is. 'Sides, I could use a vacation and some fresh air. Been locked up here too long." 

Logan looked him over again then sniffed. He smelled fine enough. "If the good doc says it's okay." 

"Don' you worry none 'bout that," Gambit assured him, grinning, his whole body relaxing. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, the long strands settling on bare shoulders. "La bête will be glad to be rid of me. Gambit's never been what you would call a good patient. I'll meet you outside in, say, une heure?"

"Fine by me, Cajun." 

Gambit smiled again. "See you then, cher."

~~

Logan packed quickly then went to get the camping equipment of out storage. 

Loading up his new jeep – he missed the old one, but it'd been destroyed during the fight with the Phalanx, and this one was slowly growing on him, even with all its fancy, unneeded features – he tried not to think about what he was doing or why. Gambit had been pestering him, off and on, for years, and he'd always told him later, some day, excuses coming easy, but seeing him in that cell, beat to shit and hours away from something terrible, it had been the easiest thing in the world to finally just ... give in.

The problem was, when it came to the Cajun, giving in just encouraged him in everything else. 

After tying down the canoe and checking to see everything else was secure, Logan hopped into the front seat and pulled the jeep around front, where Gambit was already waiting, sitting on a suitcase, wearing a pair of ridiculously short red running shorts, a loose white tank top and a pair of sunglasses, hair tied back with one of Jubilee's pink scrunchies. That Logan even knew what a scrunchy was made him think he was already in too deep. Gambit stood up quickly, almost hiding his wobble, and smiled.

"Right on time, Wolverine," Gambit said, stepping back with a smirk as Logan grabbed his suitcase before he could and tossed it into the back. "You gon' get the door, too, or is that asking too much?"

"Askin' too much," Logan growled, and Gambit smiled, lazy and bright, climbing into the passenger seat and, kicking off his sandals, putting his feet up on the dashboard. "You got your passport, Cajun?"

"First thing I packed, cher."

"And Hank cleared this?"

"'Course." Gambit lolled his head towards him, grinning. "Would I lie to you, Wolverine?"

"Just do up your seat belt," Logan grumbled, putting the jeep into drive and setting off down the driveway, reaching over to rap Gambit once on the shins, "and get your filthy feet off my dashboard."

Gambit chuckled, but he did as Logan asked. A few minutes later, Logan looked over to find Gambit conked out in his seat, head tipped forward on his chest. With a sigh, Logan reached over and pulled the lever on his seat, tilting it back. Gambit woke with a jolt, looked at him, then fell back into a snore.

~~

It took about seven hours of driving and twenty minutes at the border – during which a languid Gambit flirted outrageously with the border services agent, saying things that would have gotten anyone else searched and sent packing back home – to get to Silver Lake. Gambit slept most of the time, breathing slow and steady, and Logan resisted the urge to put his hand over his heart, just to be sure. 

They'd left early enough that the nearest grocery store was still open. Leaving Gambit sleeping in the jeep, Logan jumped out and grabbed a cart. He was loading up on water when Gambit sauntered up, all legs and easy gait. He leaned on the handle of cart, stretching. Logan tried not to roll his eyes too hard. 

"You pack anything of use, Cajun, or are we starting from scratch?"

Gambit smiled easily. "Sunscreen. Condoms. Bathing suit. What more I need, cher?"

Logan walked around the grocery store, grabbing supplies, as Gambit followed behind him. Occasionally, Gambit grabbed something, tossing it into the cart, and when Logan looked at him, he just shrugged. "Gon' cook for you, mon ami. As thanks for doing all the driving ... and for the rescue."

Logan made a dismissive noise in his throat, but Gambit kept collecting his items, while Logan focused on the essentials. Bread, deli meat, cheese, eggs, ice, coffee, a pack of emergency wieners in case the fishing didn't work out, ketchup, mustard, marshmallows. Gambit tossed in a bag of dill pickle chips. 

"We should get milk," Gambit said, picking up a bag and cradling it lovingly in the crook of his elbow. Logan sighed, but that only encouraged him. "'Case we need something to snuggle with at night."

"Put it back. With these claws, there are two things I don't mess with in the dark: milk and water beds."

Gambit shrugged, setting it back on the shelf. "Suit yourself. Plenty of other things to snuggle anyway."

Logan paid for everything then carried it all outside, packing the coolers in the backseat, as Gambit lounged around, leaning up against the jeep. He stuck out like a sore thumb, all eyes automatically drifting in his direction. Most were curious, if not outright interested, but everything in Gambit's posture was giving off that he wasn't available. Logan tried not to pay him too much attention. 

"Just gotta hit up the Beer Store," Logan said after he was done, starting the jeep. "Any requests?"

"Non, I'm easy," Gambit replied. Despite the sunglasses, Logan knew exactly where he was looking. 

~~

Since it was mid-week and off-season, they basically had their pick of campsites at Silver Lake. It was an easy decision to pick the most private one, for a variety of reasons, not limited to the fact they were mutants and were bound to talk shop, at least once in a while. It'd been a rough few months, with all the stuff that'd gone on with Jeannie and the various messes after, up to and including the fucking Phalanx.

Logan still woke up in a sweat at night, the image of Gambit infected with the Phalanx burned into his brain and Remy's screams echoing in his head. It'd been his mutant powers that had finally made that possible. He wasn't fool enough to blame himself, and he didn't, really, but it was a hard thing to shake. 

"Sit your ass down," Logan demanded when Gambit made like he was planning to help set up. He unfolded one of the camp chairs, glaring at Gambit until he finally sat down with a flourish. "I still ain't sure I didn't spring you from McCoy's clutches without his blessing. Just stay there and look pretty."

"That I can do, cher."

Logan half expected Gambit to fall asleep again, but Logan could feel his gaze on him as he set up the tent. He'd worn a flannel shirt over a ribbed tank for the drive up, but he took it off now. Tempting to switch out of his jeans, too, but he figured a cooling swim after would be a good idea for both of them. 

"Really looking forward to this, mon ami," Gambit remarked, one leg drawn up against his chest. 

Logan snorted. "Hoping it's a little more relaxing than the last time I was up here."

"Wouldn't mind seeing that Northstar again," Gambit drawled, voice warm. "Il est beau."

"Shame about the personality."

"Personality don't bother me none if we're too busy to do anything close to talking."

Logan glanced over at Gambit, who looked blithely back at him. If he wanted a reaction, Logan wasn't ready to give one, at least not yet. Running head first into shit had never helped him any in the past, and this sort of thing required a more cautious hand, something neither he or the Cajun were good at, at least when it came to crap like this. Logan had always worn his heart on his sleeve, same as Gambit.

~~

Once everything was set up to Logan's satisfaction, they changed into their suits and walked down to the lake. The Cajun was a walking bruise, still so badly beat up that Logan was now sure that Hank would have been a fool to let Gambit out of the med lab looking like that. He was half tempted to find a phone booth and call the Mansion to let Beast know where his patient was. Logan hadn't left a note. 

"Do me a favour, cher?" Gambit said, tossing Logan the sunscreen, and very carefully, Logan covered his torso with the cream, rubbing it in. Gambit hissed a few times, drawing the air in through his teeth, but they got through it, no worse for wear. "Gon' let this soak in a bit. I'll join you in a few."

Logan nodded gruffly then walked into the water, all the way up to his neck. Actual swimming was pointless – his skeleton was just too heavy, with the adamantium bonded to it – but it was still relaxing. He looked up at the sky, arms keeping him upright in the water, then glanced over to Gambit, who was slowly moving across the sandy beach, approaching the water with trepidation. He paused at the edge. 

"Scared, Cajun?" Logan shouted, drawing a quick grin in response. 

"Non, that's gon' be you in a second when you realize a raft of ducks headed your way."

"Too cold for your delicate southern bones?"

"That more like it," Gambit agreed, walking into the water with a visible shiver. "Fuck, c'est froid."

Logan snorted, ducking his head under the water, then coming up to see Gambit had made it waist deep and looked determined to go the rest of the way. The chill of the water would help with the bruising, Logan thought, dropping under again. This time, when he surfaced, Gambit was sliding up next to him.

"Salut," Gambit said with a grin, shaking the water out of his hair. "You're right. That does feel nice."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself."

"Always do wit' you," Gambit replied, flicking a few drops of lake water in Logan's face, laughing.

~~

They swam until Gambit started turning blue, then returned to camp. Logan got the fire going, as much for dinner as for warming Gambit up, then stripped out of his wet shorts. He hung them over the lowest hanging branch then dragged on a pair of sweat pants. He cracked open a few beers as Gambit changed clothes. Once dressed, Gambit started working on the food, spreading out the ingredients on the picnic table. 

"Put those claws to work, cher. Get to cutting the veggies. Let Gambit handle the meat and the roux." 

Logan sat down at the table. "This seems like a lot of effort, Cajun."

"Soothes the nerves," Gambit admitted with a shaky exhale. "Been a crazy few weeks, non?"

"What the hell were you doing in Minneapolis, Cajun?" 

"Ah, see, that was jus' bad luck. Was helping an old friend." Gambit paused mid-chop, considering his words, then continued, body just a little more tense, fingers just a little more careful. "Non, that ain't fair to him. Désolé. An old flame of mine from way back needed some help, and you know Gambit. Can't resist a friend in trouble. When you have so few of them that you trust, you do what you can." 

Bottle of beer pressed to his lips, Logan nodded. "Were you able to help him?"

"Oh, oui, that's all settled. C'est bon. But then, as I was about to head home, Sentinels."

"Always with the fucking Sentinels," Logan growled, grabbing the okra and popping a claw. 

"In this case, it was less the Sentinels and more the lunatic behind them." Gambit walked over to the fire, dumping the chicken into the pot of boiling water, then poked at it before sweeping his own beer off the table, taking a deep gulp. "No reason to dwell on it. C'est fini. Only a little worse for wear."

"They put you through the ringer, Cajun."

"Ain't gon' disagree there. A man gets to thinking in that situation. You know what I mean?"

Logan snorted. "Hate to tell you, Gumbo, but you ain't got a subtle bone in your body."

"Subtly only serves me in thieving, cher. In matters of the heart, the object of my affection always knows I'm interested." Logan expected a leer, innuendo, something outrageous, but Gambit just sighed softly, expression shuttered. "I ain't gon' pressure you or nothing. Jus' think about it. D'accord?" 

Logan tipped his beer in Gambit's direction, and Gambit clinked their bottles together.

~~

It was all Logan thought about. It was all he had been thinking about for months, their relationship changing with each new villain-of-the-week encounter and the aftermath, where they had to put each other back together again. There had been many nights, sitting outside and drinking beers, quiet. Sometimes, he'd been able to entice Storm or Rogue into a good wallow, but Gambit suited it best. 

Logan felt like he was still on that long, winding path while Gambit had skipped straight to the end.

As the sun began to set, Logan popped some batteries into his battered old radio, turning the dial until the crackling sounds of Neil Young covered the camp. He sat down in his chair, crossing his ankles, and enjoyed the sounds of nature, the bubbling of dinner and Gambit humming along to the song. 

"So, Cajun, you want to tell me what the hell you think you're doing?"

"Making Gambit's famous campfire gumbo? Trying to seduce you? Gotta be more specific, cher."

"The latter. Trust me, my nose knows what you're making there."

Gambit stared down at the pot of gumbo, for once opting to keep his trap shut, but Logan wasn't willing to just let it lie, not until he was comfortable with Gambit's intentions. All the shit they'd both been through recently was enough to drive a sane man off the rails. Logan had been around long enough to know that sometimes your brain got scrambled after an experience like that, at least for a little while.

"What about you and Rogue?"

Gambit exhaled sharply. "Southern belles are the best to flirt with. Everyone know that."

"What about crabby old Canadians?"

"Comme ci comme ça," Gambit said with a small smile. "Room for improvement, but getting there."

Logan leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands folded together. A mosquito buzzed in his ear. "I need you to be serious for a moment, Cajun. What you're asking for ... it's big. You gotta give me a straight answer. Make me believe it isn't just the Silver Lake air causing all your screws to loosen."

"She don' want me. We better as friends. We had the talk; we in complete agreement." Gambit looked at him, hair pushed back by the sunglasses on his head. "And me, I'm open-minded. I see a handsome man, and if he's interested, I'll share his bed or take him back to mine. And I see you, Wolverine."

"Call me Logan if you're gonna spout nonsense like that."

"Only if you call me Remy," he replied. "Can practically hear your thoughts. Gambit this, Gambit that."

Logan growled. "It's called being professional, Cajun."

"Bah, that's no fun," Remy muttered, scowling into the gumbo. Logan smirked around his bottle. 

~~

Logan cracked open a new round of beers while Remy dished out the gumbo with a ladle. He joined Logan at the campfire, exchanging one of the bowls for a bottle, then collapsed into his chair. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, a slump to his shoulders. Hank was going to kill him.

"One more thing we gotta talk about, Remy."

"Merde," Remy swore under his breath, taking a long drink of the beer, gumbo perched precariously on his lap. "Had easier times getting virgins into my bed than you. Unless you're ...?" He trailed off, and finally, the lecherous, teasing expression Logan had been expecting since they left spread over his face.

"Don't flatter yourself. You wouldn't be the first. In anything. Quit dodging."

"Bien. Knock yourself out then. The sooner we get this part out of the way, the sooner we can move on to better things. Our week of fishing becomes a week of fishing _and_ fucking, and I don' know 'bout you, but that sounds way more fun." Remy leered at him, red-on-black eyes raking over Logan's body, and Logan stared back, more amused than anything. Remy sighed deeply. "Jus' get on with it, cher." 

"Pretty sure you weren't planning wedding bells with me before Minneapolis."

"Pretty sure you're wrong there," Remy replied without heat. "The truth is, as I was getting the shit beat out o' me, it crossed my mind this might actually be the end of the road, and I said to myself, Remy, if you get out of this, you make sure you have no regrets. Because I had regrets, and they were mostly you."

"I know how it feels to be messed up that bad, Remy. All the Weapon X shit, Proteus, the Phalanx. It can spook the fucking crap outta you, but ..." Logan trailed off as Remy held up a hand, long fingers spread, and they stared at each other for a long time before Remy was the one to break the silence. 

"You and me, Logan. We've been to hell and back together. Seen the worst the world has to offer. You've thought me a traitor, and I've thought you an animal. Maybe it's time to take some friendly advice and see the world through different eyes. The fuzzy elf might have the right idea," Remy said.

"I doubt Nightcrawler meant us knocking boots."

"Je ne sais pas. He pretty open-minded. Probably been praying for us."

Logan snorted. "Eat your gumbo, Gumbo."

"Sure thing. Gon' need my strength," Remy agreed with a loose, knowing grin. Logan ignored him. 

~~

Logan helped himself to another two servings of gumbo before settling down in front of the fire, nursing his fifth beer. He looked over to Remy, who had fallen asleep in his chair, turned toward Logan, bare legs hanging over one arm rest. He figured they wouldn't be roasting any marshmallows tonight. 

Probably nothing else either, for all Remy was eager to get things moving. Logan knew he had nothing but time, and he'd already made his decision. If the Cajun was game to try, so was he. Stranger things had happened in his life, and he wasn't blind to Remy's charms. Hadn't been since the day they first met.

Logan looked up at the sky, the pinpricks of stars against the dark background, and took a deep breath. He could smell the other campers, but more than that, the earth, the trees, the animals, and underneath – a constant presence in his life for the last few years – the spicy, masculine scent of Remy LeBeau.

Eventually, Logan stood up and gathered all the bowls, utensils and bottles strewn about. With the radio still on, he cleaned up, washing the pot and the dirty dishes, packing away the leftovers in the cooler. He put the empty bottles back into the case of beer, with an aim to drink his way through everything he bought and return the empties on the way out of the province. Lastly, he put out the fire with water.

Remy woke when Logan slid his arm under his legs. "I'm awake," he slurred, clutching at his shirt.

"Quit lying to me, Cajun. You just aren't very good at it."

Remy grinned sleepily at him. "Got you to steal me away from Henry, didn't I?"

"First time for everything," Logan muttered, carrying Remy over to the tent and carefully laying him down on the mound of sleeping bags. When he put his hand under Remy's tank, Remy lifted his arms helpfully and Logan slid it right off. He tucked his hand into Remy's waistband. "Nothing tonight." 

"Would settle for a kiss," Remy said after a moment of consideration, "as thanks for the gumbo."

"Fair enough."

With his hand on Remy's bare waist, Logan leaned into him, and Remy lifted his head, dreamy smile already on his lips. The kiss started out sweet, dry skin on dry skin. Then Remy arched up into him, burying one hand in Logan's hair, and he opened up under Logan, loose and languid. His mouth tasted like beer and gumbo, and Logan licked into him, dragging a low groan out of Remy's throat.

"Yeah," Remy said, palming a hand over Logan's chest as Logan pulled back, looking down at him, "we gon' be fine." Remy slipped his hands under Logan's shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. "Get you outta these clothes, get a little sleep in us, then crack o' dawn, you let me at that cock. Been thinking 'bout it."

Tugging off his own shirt, Logan growled. "You're gonna be the death of me, Cajun."

"Hope not. Still got all these condoms to use," Remy murmured, smiling, and Logan rolled his eyes.

Logan zipped the tent closed then returned to Remy, who held onto Logan's shorts until he pushed them off. When Remy lifted his hips, Logan obliged him and got him naked, too. Sorting out the sleeping bags, Remy half conscious and sprawled over them, Logan finally settled down as Remy pressed up against him, tucking in tight. 

"Nighty-night, Cajun," Logan murmured. 

Remy, already asleep, sighed softly in his ear. Logan lay there a while longer, listening to him breathe over the sound of the water at Silver Lake before he pulled Remy a little closer and drifted off.


End file.
